


Burning House

by spellitwithyourpeas



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, kastle - Freeform, mostly frank's perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:06:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6401671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellitwithyourpeas/pseuds/spellitwithyourpeas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The conversation was inevitable. She knew it wasn't coincidence when he sidled up to her . She'd been getting that feeling that he'd been keeping an eye out these past couple of months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning House

Despite recent events, Frank Castle would still consider himself to be a simple man who enjoyed the little things in life. A good cup of Joe, The Bulletin splayed open on the table of the last booth of a quiet diner. A clear view at of the street out the window and an exit to his back and a full view of the entrance.

It took him some time to learn to savor the little things. It took war and separation. Because when he came home, that’s all he had-little moments ….before the bags he threw in the closet were back on the bed ready to be packed. Little moments before the weight bore heavy on him and the memories all came back. Just a few minutes of rest before he’d wake up in a night sweat. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy what he did. Hell, he loved it, it fed him. He’d learned to enjoy a beer with the guys before an op and genuinely be in the moment, something like that zen shit- and then feel fully ready to pack up and run when the call came out. Point is, he wasn’t living a double life.

So he enjoyed his black coffee, the knowledge that he had a plan, and multiple cash and weapon stashes all around the city. Hell’s Kitchen-Hell, maybe even world- his case did make national headlines, thought he was dead. Shit, that was fine by him. Blending in was even less of a problem when people weren’t looking. He burned his house, and no one really blinked an eye- he’d killed enough people that it wouldn’t have been a surprising act of retaliation. There were theories, but this city thrived on theories and Frank Castle was old news.

His metaphorical death had been necessary. Almost as necessary as slamming the door in the face of the one person who gave a rat’s ass about his well-being. He fucking cared. He cared the moment he heard her voice break through that night and he saw the desperation, the fight in her eyes to reign him in. And for a moment something flashed before his eyes, a small what if. What if I don’t pull the trigger. But he’d opened his mouth and the rage, the hate and disgust for the man that stole his family from him rushed back and he’d shut down. Even her-the first one willing to cross that red tape- couldn’t reach him.

 It wasn’t fate or coincidental that Karen Page happened to walk past the diner and Frank’s gaze followed her. She was lost in thought, brow furrowed, eyes down towards the cement sidewalk.

Eyes up, keep those eyes up, he criticized. He left a generous tip at the table and stood up and left the diner. He’d been told he could read people well. Maybe it’s his history of seeing the worst at their worst and the best at their best. He stayed a few paces behind her. There was something in her gait. She was tense…distracted.

Little moments, that’s all we get in life, and a shit ton of grief.  He may have been dead to her, but she was not to him. He was a lot of things, but he was not disloyal. So he kept an ear to the ground. He read her stories, kept tabs on her movement, ready to intervene. And he had. And he knew that she knew. But she kept on going. Wouldn’t be the lady she was if she stopped.

He followed her to the pier where she leaned against the railing, looking at the muddy river reflect the overcast day. Her shoulders tight with tension as she let her head sink.

His boots crunched on the gravel and she turned. There was a flash of surprise, a hint of anger evident. But her expression softened and she gave a small, soft smile. “Frank.”

“Ma’am”

She chuckled, tucking a blond strand behind her ear. “Oh, we’re back to Ma’am now?”

“Well, it’s been while”.

She nods, arms folded, her voice soft, “So, um, what are you doing here? Seems a bit early for you to be out”. He recognized her posture. Closed. Afraid? Probably not. Weary of him? Absolutely. Unsure whether the ground they stood on was steady.

“I’m not like your friend Red, I don’t do lawyer by day. This is it”.

“You know? About Matt.” She took a step towards him.

He chuckled, “Shit I knew since our first chat in the hospital. Matt Murdock isn’t as slick as he’d like to think”.  She rolled her eyes, “Yeah, well, I don’t think he’s feeling that way now.” He sobered up, and stepped past her, leaning on the rail. She bit her lip and paused, “How’d you know I knew?... I mean you’re a jackass, but I don’t think you’d just casually tattle.”

Frank shrugged and stared out across the water. “He and I had a little chat.”

“About what?” she asked. He looked at her with pointedly. Karen straightened up and nodded, “Me, great. Going to fill me in?”.

He cleared his throat, fingers tapping on the bar. “He uh, wasn’t a fan that I’d been keepin tabs on you. Wanted me to steer clear… leave you alone. Gave me the whole speech, you know, to stay clear of you -how I attracted danger. Can’t say it isn’t true.”

Karen let out a laugh. “You know that’s rich coming from him.” He holds up his hands in a small gesture of surrender. “Hey, Look I’m not trying to get in the middle of your lover’s spat.”

“We’re not lovers.” Karen sighed. “I told you he lies and hurts people. He lied to me, wanted to keep me in the dark, and didn’t even notice when I-,”She stopped, swallowing her words. _When I needed someone the most._ Frank glanced over, he didn’t miss her fleeting expression of anger and pain he saw too often when he looked in the mirror. She took a breath and continued and resumed calmly, “He waited till the last minute, in a last measure of desperation. I appreciate the gesture, but I’m just…” The sentence fell empty.

Frank nodded and offered, “Tired?”  She smiled and some tension left her stance. “Yeah, tired.” The two fell into a comfortable silence. It had been a few months since her second kidnapping, since she looked up at the man she fought so hard to defend. Still defends. He seemed comfortable, just being there with her. She had been unsure. It’s not like they left on the best of terms. _You’re dead to me._ The words carried weight.

She broke the silence, “I heard about your house.” He scoffed, “Yeah, you heard about it.” She gritted her teeth, “Saw it.”

“Knew it.” He knew she’d check it out. Not for a story. Not for the past but maybe to gain some kind of understanding for the future. It was a decision he did not regret. Setting fire to the physical remainder of a life he’d never get back. He had the memories, bits and pieces at least. Some part of him felt the remainder of them were locked away, waiting to be revealed one by one. Funny, the key to getting them back was standing next to him. Completely calm and strong. He only knew half of what she’d endured. He could’ve done some digging, but he respected her too much. If she ever felt the need, the desire to disclose her past, he’d be there. The responsible part of him knew that these months apart had been good. Good- for her safety. But shit the other part of him knew she’d get into enough trouble on her own, it was arguable how much he’d be adding to the already bubbling pot. “It was time. I needed closure, you know. Needed to lay them to rest. Besides, not my home anymore”

Her gaze softened, “I don’t judge you for it.” Then quietly, “I’m sorry about what I said. That night- I mean, I don’t mean it anymore. You’re not dead to me. That’s not what I want.” She met his gaze and for a second her stomach dropped because she saw him grimace and shake his head before he blurted out, “Don’t be sorry. Shit Karen..you don’t ever have to apologize to me.”

“I just feel like I owe you-“ she started.

“ You owe me? that’s-“ His voice broke roughly, briefly meeting her eyes before he looked at his white knuckled grip of the rail. His tone was even. “I owe you everything, ok? You know, some part of me wishes you’d listen and stay the hell out of all of this, but that isn’t you is it? No. Don’t apologize to me.”

Karen swallows and slowly reaches over to place a hand over his. His grip loosens and his shoulders drop. He looked up and saw an understanding. He nodded and unhurriedly removed his hands “Now, there a reason you trekked all the way out here?”

She smiled, “Not really, just need to clear my mind.”

He smiled a small crooked grin. “Yeah, it all cleared up now?”

She laughed and he felt that wholeness he rarely experiences, except when he’s with her. “Yeah. Ready to go back to work.”

“I won’t keep you. You keep that .380 close, your head up, and eyes forward .” Frank gives a final nod and turns to leave before she said “See you around Frank.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He walked off. Back to the bustling street, fading into the crowd. Blending with the movement of Hell’s Kitchen. Karen smiled. A ghost walking among the living.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading or looking! :) Still getting the hang of these two. Going to be working on another fic for them soon :)  
> Find me on [tumblr](http://lightofpage.tumblr.com/) and make trash angels with me


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